


The Beginning of Something Fucked Up

by GemmaRose



Series: Kinktober 2019 [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Breeding, Captivity, Cock Worship, Coercion, Collars, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Lapdance, Large Cock, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overlord is more than proportional, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Violence, Wait these two are already a ship tag? sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 02:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: A stellar cycle back Overlord caught a pretty little trespasser in the caves he's made his home. Finally, the mech is ready to be moulded into a carrier. It may not be a smooth or easy process, but Overlord doesn't mind. After all, crushing his little carrier's resistance is half the fun of breaking him in.





	The Beginning of Something Fucked Up

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Overlord Being Overlord. The consent in this story is coerced at best, and near the end Froid stops consenting entirely. Overlord, the point of view character, does not care. The "Fucked Up" in the title is not just there for show. Feel free to back out now if that's too much for you.

Overlord smirked at the mech standing before him, optics raking over his gangly frame. It had hardly been a stellar cycle since he found Froid in fitful recharge in the front of the caves he’d claimed as his home, but already the synthblends he’d found were showing their effects so blatantly as to be unmistakable. What armour hadn’t vanished into his protoform was thin, nearly sheer in spots, only barely covering the most sensitive parts of his frame. And of course, the best part was the thick purple-blue collar around his neck, a sturdy ring welded to it surrounded by glyphs of possession.

“Are you ready to cooperate today?” he asked, and thin gold optics stared back at him. The spark hadn’t yet gone out of them, Overlord was certain Froid was plotting something, but the mech was frail and he had only grown stronger since Megatron threw him through Unicron’s Maw like a coward.

“What are you going to ask of me if I say yes?” Froid asked, and Overlord’s smirk widened to a grin.

“What do you think?” he reached out and stroked a finger over the no-longer-modest panel that protected Froid’s array, lingering on the heavy latches which kept it from springing open at anyone’s whim but his own. The mech shuddered, and Overlord withdrew a cube from his subspace. Fuel, it turned out, was a wonderful way to convince a mech to abide by his will. Froid sighed and stepped forward to take the cube in both hands. He drank it quickly, perhaps too quickly for the size of his tank and how much fuel Overlord had been giving him while he came around to the idea of his new existence, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was the fact that he’d drank it, and Overlord saw the very moment the mix’s dominant component kicked in.

Froid’s modesty panel dented notably outwards from his spike pressurising, and lubricant was quick to start seeping from his panel seams. “That-” Froid shuddered, and Overlord was pleased to note that the mech didn’t paw at his own array. “That’s stronger than before.”

“A new blend.” Overlord grinned, pulling another cube from his subspace and downing the more or less plain energon in three huge gulps. “Now, shall we?” he held out a hand, and with contact he could read even Froid’s tightly-furled field. Disgust and hatred were prominent in it, but so was lust, and even a hint of excitement. Overlord gripped Froid’s hand tightly as he led the mech to his berthroom, far larger and better appointed than Froid’s own of course, this _was_ his place after all and Froid was simply a trespasser who’d caught his optic. He wished he had a door to lock behind them, to make sure the mech didn’t try to make a run for it as soon as he was released. If Froid tried that though, Overlord would snap his legs again, and he was willing to bet the mech had more of a sense of self-preservation than that.

He sat himself on the edge of the berth, and dragged Froid to stand in front of him. “Seduce me.”

“What?” Froid frowned, and Overlord leaned back on one hand as he retracted his modesty panels, letting his spike rise gracefully to full pressure. 

“You want this.” he said, not a question but a statement of fact. Froid’s fans spun up higher, his thighs trembled as more lubricant dripped down them from behind his panel, his golden optics took three tries to tear themselves away from the sight to return to Overlord’s face. “But you’ve been such a bother, you’ll have to earn it.”

Froid’s optic ridges draw together, and Overlord grinned as he stroked a hand over his spike, relishing the way Froid’s optics tracked the motion eagerly, the way he whined, a low, sub-glyphic sound of pure _need_ that he didn’t even seem to be aware of. “How?” he asked, and Overlord grinned in earnest.

“Entertain me.” he grabbed Froid by the hips and dragged him closer, thumb pressing hard on the dent in his modesty panel to draw out a hoarse whimper. “_Dance_.”

Froid, clever little thing he was, didn’t complain that he wasn’t any kind of entertainer. Overlord wanted something, and one way or another he was going to get it. Instead he vented deeply, reached his overlong arms out to rest them on Overlord’s chest, and began to move. It was awkward, but in a way that Overlord lived for, the kind of awkward where he got what he wanted _and_ got to watch the mech giving it to him squirm inside their own plating. He slid his hand down the length of his spike again, and as Froid seemed to pick a rhythm Overlord pumped himself in time with the movement of those narrow blue hips.

He could hardly wait to sink his spike into the needy little valve behind that straining panel. The synthblends he’d been giving Froid were potent, but corruptive, transformative fuel could only do so much. His valve would still be vice-tight, Overlord reckoned. Hot and wet and ripe for brutalising, for moulding to fit his spike so thoroughly Froid wouldn’t even be able to imagine being fragged by anyone else. “Like what you see?” Froid’s glyphs buzzed with static, and Overlord belatedly noticed his cooling fans had kicked on.

“Some.” he admitted, no point denying that when he did fully intend to frag Froid after this. “But I’m not sure the same could be said of you.” he leaned back further on his supporting arm and tilted his hips, savouring how Froid’s optics followed his fingers up the length of his spike, the unconscious little flick of glossa against his barely parted lips when Overlord collected a trickle of pre on his fingers. “If you want my spike so badly, then prove it.”

Froid’s optics hardened, and Overlord leveled a feral grin at the mech as he went to his knees next to the berth, mouth pressing hot and insistent against the underside where it rose from the soft silver of his array. He moaned, placing a hand on the back of Froid’s helm to guide him as he licked and kissed and sucked, every once in a while scraping his denta over the sensor-laden surface and sending sparks shooting through both their systems as the nodes discharged out of synch. “An improvement.” he purred as Froid neared his flared tip, and bit back a gasp as the mech suddenly dug his denta in and dropped back down to kneeling with his aft nearly on the floor.

“Surely, a mech like you can handle a little bit of pain.” Froid smirked at him, rising fluidly and kicking a pede up to rest as high on Overlord as it would go. “Lucky for both of us, I like a bit of pain.”

“_There_ we go.” Overlord grinned, grabbing Froid by the hips and pressing both thumbs to the lock on his modesty panel, It sprang open immediately, and Overlord just had to laugh at what had become of Froid’s spike. It hadn’t been terribly impressive to begin with, but now it was downright petite, a spike far more fit for a minicon than what the local red minis sported. He sank both thumbs directly into Froid’s valve, tugging at the rim to test its give, and it felt more or less right. Froid was light, easy to lift into position, and Overlord held him tight by the hips over the fat tip of his triple-ridged spike.

“Hmm, one last thing.” he grinned, and pulled a node-attachable overload inhibitor. “Wouldn’t do to have you miss a single nano-klik of this.”

Froid let out a sound of outrage as the inhibitor snapped into place, but it was short-lived as Overlord gripped Froid’s hips and pulled him down _hard_ The mech screamed, and Overlord moaned loudly. He’d been right, Froid’s valve was just as tight as anything else he’d managed to get his spike into without destroying, and this time he didn’t have to worry about his new fragtoy running away. He grabbed Froid harder by the hips and thrusted up into him roughly, feeling the pitiful attempts at calipers clenching every time the blunt tip of his spike slammed against not only Froid’s ceiling node but also the access port to his gestation tank.

Froid shuddered, but his hands only held on tighter, fingers worrying at seams of Overlord’s armour. Between the heat and the pressure on his spike, Overlord overloaded fast and hard, transfluid splashing into Froid’s valve and promptly being sucked up into his gestation tank. He was horribly ill-suited to carry sparklings as big as Overlord’s, especially with their penchant for splitting, but that was half the point of fuelling him on fertility synthblends. He would be unable to leave, weighted down with Overlord’s spawn. Unable to do anything but submit to Overlord’s will, an ever-present source of charge release who was never anything less than eager to be fragged.

At least, that was what Overlord gathered it would be like having a carrier in his home. There was still the possibility he’d need to break out the cables and lash him face-down on the berth, aft in the air, but that would only last so long before carrier coding overrode any and all objections and prioritised getting the newsparks enough transfluid to forge them proper frames.

That was later, though. Right now he had a wailing Froid impaled on his spike, which had yet to depressurise. Good, all the better to frag him senseless with. Overlord pulled Froid roughly off his spike and tossed him towards the head of the berth, quickly crawling after him to flip the mech on his hands and knees and sink his spike back in. Froid moaned this time, a far nicer sound than his screech earlier, and Overlord’s engine roared as he pinned his little carrier-to-be with both hands and gave each thrust his all.

“Just- you- wait.” he grunted between thrusts, his second overload rapidly approaching as the inhibitor kept Froid from having one again. “Time I’m done- You’ll be sparked with triplets.”

Froid’s fans _roared_ at that, his frame trembling as the inhibitor redistributed another overload’s worth of charge across his plating, most of it grounding into Overlord and pushing him dangerously close to the edge. “You like that, huh?” he snapped his hips forward extra hard and ground deep as he overloaded, this time noting how Froid’s field blazed as the transfluid settled in his gestation tank. A HUD alert popped up, and Overlord bit back a curse. How was he down to the dregs of his transfluid tanks already?

He growled in frustration as he thrust hard again, reaching in his subspace for a cube he’d meant to trade off for more of the armour-enhancing blend. Right now it was just what he needed though, and he ripped the top off with his denta to throw it all back in one go. Half the cube went down his front, casualty of not stopping his frag to drink it, but what made it into his tanks was more than enough. He felt the heat of his frame kicking transfluid production into high gear, the tightening sensation of his tank walls becoming thicker, better able to withstand the pressure of more transfluid than even a mech his size should be able to produce at once. His fuel tank pinged near to empty, and he dismissed the pop-up with a snort. He’d deal with that later. Right now, he had two pressurised transfluid tanks and one very, _very_ eager mech to unload them into.

He thrust again, resuming his earlier harsh pace, and moved a hand to grope Froid’s middle. The armour there had long been absorbed into his protoform, so there was nothing but a thin layer of derma and some cables between his hand and Froid’s bulging tank. “Just imagine.” he panted, driving his hips into Froid’s as the mech mewled in disappointment, yet another overload dissipated by the inhibitor. “Spending- every day- this full.” he groaned through another overload, fingers digging into the fragile metal. His processor was swimming, fuzzy from the numerous charge surges, but his transfluid tanks were still straining and Froid wasn’t wailing to be allowed an overload yet, so he kept going.

“Ready to pop.” he squeezed Froid’s gestation tank through its flimsy covering for emphasis, and Froid’s field went sharp with need as the inhibitor stopped yet another climax. “Stuffed with my CNA.” he groaned and reared back to sit on his heels, grabbing Froid by the bulge of his gestation tank to hold him still to be pounded up into. “So heavy- with my sparklings- you can’t even move.”

Froid _keened_ as the inhibitor cut his charge that time, writhing in Overlord’s grip. “And when you’re done.” he purred, pausing to grind deep in Froid’s valve, making him spit static and his field flare with need tinged ever so slightly with that luscious desperation. “I’ll fill you right up again.” he pressed on Froid’s gestation tank, and found it unyielding. Pressurized, much like his transfluid tanks still were. “Make you forget what it was like to not be full of sparklings, full of my transfluid.”

He grabbed Froid’s collar with his free hand and used it to wrench the mech’s helm backwards so their optics met, lust-hazed gold reflecting his own flaring crimson. “You are **Mine**.” he snarled, vocalising every last subglyph stamped into Froid’s collar around his own designation.

“No.” Froid forced out through a static-choked vocaliser, and were he not still hilt-deep in the mech’s vicelike valve Overlord would’ve pitched him against the wall

“Yes.” he growled, all but throwing himself forwards, slamming Froid’s face into the berth as he renewed his brutal pace. “Mine. My carrier. Of- My- Sparklings.” he overloaded again, and this time Froid’s field flared with pain in addition to his desperate neediness. Overlord was beyond caring, though. Clearly, Froid still needed to be taught a lesson. He remained still for a moment after his overload passed, letting his processor clear itself of some of the fog his climaxes had generated.

“You will never again know what it is like to go to recharge with an empty tank.” he growled, pressing on Froid’s back until at least half his weight rested on the mech’s chassis, on the unarmoured, over-pressurised gestation tank below the heel of his hand. “And that is a _promise_.” he drew back just enough to snap his hips forward against Froid’s with enough power to generate a loud clang, and Froid sobbed as his field filled with _desperation need fear_, flaring out as if calling for help. “You’ll come around, I’m sure.” Overlord soothed, setting a less frantic pace for what would surely be his last overload of the night. “I’ll frag you like this every night, make sure this tank of yours gets nice and stretched out for my sparklings.”

Another roll of his hips, another whimper from Froid. “They’ll be big, big enough your skinny little leg struts would snap under their weight.” he grinned as he thrust hard again, startling a cry from the weakly writhing mech under him. “And you’ll all be mine. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

Froid whimpered, and Overlord bent to press a kiss to the side of his helm. “You’ll come around.”


End file.
